


Behind Closed Doors

by jennyjar



Category: Doc Martin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-02-28 22:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13281612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennyjar/pseuds/jennyjar
Summary: What might have happened between the end of episode “The Holly Bears a Prickle” and the beginning of episode “Nowt So Queer”





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Whatever you can recognize is not mine.  
Warning: English is neither my first, nor second language. Proceed at your own risk.

*****  
They stay like that for a long time, until Louisa motions Martin to put her down, which he carefully does. He doesn’t, however, let go of her completely, and she also keeps holding on to his arms.

“Louisa,” he says softly and leans in for a kiss. Her hands move to the back of his head, stroking his short hair, drawing him closer. A tender kiss turns into another, more passionate one. Martin’s hands, touching her back lightly at first, become more and more confident, sliding up and down.

The mobile starts ringing. 

“Bugger,” with an effort Martin manages to sufficiently separate himself from Louisa to get the phone from his inner pocket. “Bugger,” he repeats, throws a longing glimpse at her upturned face, and, finally, barks into the phone, “Ellingham.”

“Yes,” he says, a bit calmer, after listening for a few moments. One of his hands, which is still on Louisa’s back, slides up and down one last time, before with a sigh, Martin takes a step away from her.

“Yes, Pauline, I’ll be right there,” he snaps into the phone and rings off. Dejectedly he looks at Louisa, “I…hmm…”

“Surgery?” she asks with a small smile. “You have to go?”

“I…hmm…” Martin nods.

“You’ll come back for dinner…” she looks at him expectantly. “Will you?”

“Yes,” he pushes the word through his clenched teeth, as if it costs him dearly and ducks his head. He looks away, and his gaze trips over the pool of blood, still congealing on the kitchen floor. “I should clean that,” he mumbles, quickly moving his eyes away from the spot, “you shouldn’t be touching it, it’s a medical waste.”

"It is fine, I can do it,” she strokes his arm. He peers at her hand on his sleeve, swallows, and moves away from her touch.

“Martin?”

“Erm, right, there might be some small pieces of glass, be careful. I’ll leave you.…” He crouches by his medical bag, gets a pair of gloves out, and hesitates, “they might be slightly big for your…” He looks up at Louisa. “Here…” and hands her the gloves. The brush of their fingers sends him scrambling for words. “Hmm…” the only thing he can manage. He quickly gets up, forgetting the low set ceiling beam, and hits his head against it.

“Martin!” Louisa exclaims, looking at his twisted face, as he hisses, “Bugger.”

Both, the medical bag and the defibrillator, in his hands, Marin lingers by the door.

“Would you like… Should I bring anything for… dinner?“ he finds an excuse to linger some more.

“No, just come.” Her hand is on his sleeve again. “Does half past six work for you?”

He nods stiffly, staring at her hand, then offers, “I will call the hospital to get the update on your… friend.”

“I think I should go see her,” Louisa considers. “I…”

“No need,” Martin cuts her of, “she’ll be heavily sedated.” He glances at Louisa and adds softer, “I can take you there tomorrow.”

Louisa nods with a smile, pulls him down a bit, and gives him a peek on the cheek. Martin’s mouth quirks slightly, as if he is fighting his own smile.


	2. Chapter 2

*****  
When he comes back to Louisa’s cottage, it’s dark. Martin peers into the window, but can only see tightly drawn curtains. For a few long moments he just stands by the door, then takes a deep breath and knocks.

Louisa opens the door, smiling at him. “I’m glad you could make it after all. Come in.”

He ducks his head, as he crosses the threshold, “I apologize, Louisa, but it took me over half an hour to find that bloody farm…”

“It’s fine, Martin, you called… It’s your job.” She closes the door behind him. “I’m glad you are here.”

He nods stiffly, hesitates, and leans in for a kiss. Louisa happily responses.

“Tea?” she asks somewhat breathlessly, when they finally separate for long enough for her to get some air and to recall her duties as a hostess.

Martin furriers his brows, “It’s too late for tea.” Then amends, “But if you want…”

“You must be hungry.” Louisa leads him into the house, and he gags just a little as he passes the spot, where Holly lied in the pool of her own blood this morning.

“I ate. Auntie Joan left some chicken sandwiches for me.”

Louisa looks sharply at him.

“I had to stop by surgery to change,” he continues without picking up on her disapproval. “Didn’t want to track all the mud and filth, and, no doubt, a variety of nasty germs I picked up while at that bloody farm.”  


“Alright, give me a minute.” She points him to the couch and goes to the kitchenet, where she turns of the stove, covers and puts away several dishes, and tidies things up. Martin’s eyes follow her as she moves around. However, every time she glances at him, he gets busy removing some unseen piece of lint that miraculously appears on his otherwise impeccable suit.  


“So, how is Mr. Smith?” Louisa asks.  


“Who?”  


“Mr. Smith,” she frowns. “Pentire Farm? Your emergency call?”  


“Oh, him.” Martin glances at her surprised. “You know I can’t discuss my patients.”  


“Right. It’s just… I was in school with his daughter, knew the family for years…” she stops herself. “I understand.”  


She finishes her task and turns, finally catching Martin’s stare. She smiles as she approaches the couch and sits next to him. He inhales sharply.  


“I know there is Holly, and everything else,” Louisa begins, playing with a strand of her hair, “but do you know what I’ve thinking about? All. Day. Long… “ she trails off watching Martin closely.  


“What?” he asks quietly.  


“This.” She goes for the kiss like she’s being waiting for it for much longer than a day. And in truth, she has. The way Martin reacts it appears he’s being waiting for it just as long.  


It doesn’t take much time before he is cradling Louisa’s head with both his hands, his fingers tangled in her hair, his lips alternate between meeting hers and tenderly mapping her face, her neck, and a sliver of her bare shoulder peering out of the cardigan. Louisa matches his efforts, although their height difference makes it harder for her. Not willing to give in, she stretches and strains, gripping Martin’s shoulders for purchase.  


When Martin comes for air next time, he regards their relative positions, then opens his mouth, closes it, and glances at Louisa.  


As excited as she is at the moment, she manages, “Don’t spoil it, Martin, please, don’t.”  


He nods and proceeds, “May I?” He hooks his hand under Louisa’s jeans’ clad bum, lifts her slightly and moves her, so that she is on his lap, straddling his knees. He closely watches her all the while, trying to gage her reaction.  


“Oh,” Louisa breathes out, and Martin takes it as an approval. Now, on more equal footing so to speak, they proceed.  


Martin’s next “may I?” results in Louisa’s cardigan been removed. Now his hands, in addition to rubbing gentle circles on her back, are free to caress her bare arms, while his lips continue their tender exploration of her face, her neck, and newly uncovered shoulders. Louisa, although not as successful with his clothing removal, manages to learn a few things about Martin. Like the fact that despite his usual abrasive demeanor, he has a remarkably soft touch. Or that a light scratching on the back of his scalp can produce a sound akin to cat’s purr out of him. Or that he has a very sensitive neck, and caress of her lips anywhere by his shirt’s collar makes his breathing hitch.  


When the zipper on her blouse go undone and Martin’s tie gets significantly looser, it is time for Louisa’s request. “I think we should take it upstairs,” she says, trying not to pant. Then adds, “Martin?”  


He looks at her for a brief moment, then in one smooth move gets up, holding her tightly – one hand on her back, the other under her bum.  


Louisa squeaks, and he halts. “Problem?”  


In lieu of the answer, she kisses the underside of his jaw and winds her arms and legs tighter around his body. “You know where we are going.”  


He just nods.


	3. Chapter 3

*****  
For someone, who habitually bumps into people and walls, and hits his head at least once a day, Martin is incredibly graceful, carrying his precious load through the house, up the stairs, to the bedroom. He gently seats Louisa on the edge of the bed and slides to his knees in front of her in the process. He pauses then, waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, Martin,” she exhales, leans toward him, and they are kissing again.

Very soon Louisa’s blouse is off. 

“Hmm,” Martin cocks his head and glances at her laced bra.

“Is it… are you… Martin?” Louisa stutters, but stops as he slowly drags his fingers starting on her left clavicle, over the sternum, down her stomach to the top of her jeans. Then he looks up at her, “You are so beautiful…, so very beautiful.” Louisa shivers, and he frowns, “Are you cold?” 

“No, Martin,” she pulls him closer and whispers in his ear, “No, I am not cold, but you are overdressed.”

Martin’s prominent ears turn bright red, and his stiff “yes” comes with a stiff nod. As Louisa reaches for his tie, he gets on his feet, so she is left to simply watch as he takes off and carefully hangs up his jacket and removes the shoes. He then puts the cufflinks and the tie on the nightstand, rolls up his shirt sleeves and returns to the bed, once again sliding to his knees in front of Louisa.

“That was a good start,” she runs her hands over his shirt-clad chest and tries to undo a button, “but I think we can do better...”

Martin cocks his head to peer at her hands. He then gently takes a hold of them to stop her and goes for a long kiss. When Louisa is sufficiently distracted, he pushes her back lightly, so that she leans on her elbows and her bare, save for a flimsy bra, upper body is within an easy reach of his hands and his lips. 

“May I?” Martin swallows while he waits for her stammered “yes.” He nods stiffly once more, and proceeds, using his position to the fullest. He is very thorough and deliberate in his approach, starting with a long kiss and then moving slowly downwards, and his efforts keep Louisa quivering somewhere on the edge, between utter pleasure and frustration. However, when she tries to reciprocate or to urge him to hurry up, Martin carefully deters her.

By the time he makes his way to the top of Louisa’s jeans and pauses, she almost growls at him, “I’ll do it!” 

Martin watches intently as her slightly shaking fingers struggle with the button and the zipper, but he does help her to pull of the jeans. When her finally bare legs are on his shoulders, he swallows hard and whispers, “May I?”

“Yes, Martin,” Louisa falls on her back and adds softly, “and, please…, don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. For the most part. Only from time to time, when Louisa arches away from his touch or makes yet another shrill sound, he glances up at her, “Alright?”

Martin does get rid of his shirt and pants. By then Louisa is barely coherent enough to hear him rasp, “May I?”…

They lie next to each other, tangled in bed covers, both sweaty and out of breath. Martin peers at Louisa, opens his mouth and closes it again. 

“You are incredible,” Louisa murmurs, as she pushes her messed up hair away from her damp face and beams at him.

“No, I am not,” he responds quickly, shifting his gaze away from her. He deliberates for a moment, clears his throat, and then cautiously proceeds, “So, this was… I….” He stops and glances at her again.

Louisa giggles, “Oh, Martin, someone must have told you how amazing you were?” She playfully pecks him on the cheek, “I’ll be right back.” She gets up and walks out. She stops in the doorway and adds with a smile, “Don’t move, I want my turn.” Martin looks quizzically after her. 

He stays as he is for a while, listening to the sounds of the shower, then gets up and starts collecting the items of his clothing around the room. Louisa comes back to find him standing by the bed, with an air of uncertainty about him, which he rarely displays. His pants are back on, but he holds his shirt, as if he isn’t quite sure what to do with it. 

“Trying to slink off?” Louisa asks with a small smile, and Martin only stares at her. She has put on a robe, but has forgone any underwear. And he can clearly see that.  


“Hmm,” that is all he can manage on the first go. He cocks his head, clears his throat, and tries again, “I…umm… you have… umm… school tomorrow, I… umm… have…” He doesn’t get to finish the sentence. While he speaks, Louisa walks to him, takes the shirt out of his hand, and casually drops it. Martin watches it fall and crumple at his feet and winces. The next moment, however, his attention is fully back on Louisa, who plants a kiss somewhere in the middle of his bare chest and leads him back to bed.

“I told you I want my turn, Martin,” she smiles. 

“Erm, your turn?” he looks at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Instead of an explanation, Louisa proceeds with a comprehensive demonstration. Martin appears to be absolutely stunned at first. He lies there, still and rigid, staring at the spot on the ceiling right above his head and desperately trying not to breath too loudly. Little by little, Louisa manages to coerce him out of his stupor. Still, he keeps peering at her as if he is waiting for a sign that there is some kind of catch… As if he is trying to anticipate the steepness of the price for being allowed to have this experience… 

Much later, as they lie in the dark, he seems uncomfortable holding Louisa, and yet he doesn’t make any attempts to let go of her. Eventually, her breathing turns deep and even. Martin swallows, and whispers to the top of her head, tucked under his chin, “I love you. I love you, Louisa.”

The third time they make love that night it is already, in fact, early morning. Afterwards, Louisa falls asleep again, but Martin stays awake. He spends an hour alternatively watching Louisa and staring at the ceiling. From time to time, he carefully moves her tousled hair, so he has a better view of her face.  
At six, he slides out of the bed, taking every precaution not to wake Louisa. He makes a conscious effort not to look at her, while he puts his clothes on. He sits on the very edge of the bed to lace the shoes and adjust his tie…


End file.
